Note: my apologies for the long delays between chapters at the moment.


You gotta be kidding me!

Hogan didn't even know if he'd spoken out loud. Of all the men in Stalag 13, the one he'd never imagined falling for a pretty Fräulein was Doyle. Yet here he was, announcing quite coolly that he'd agreed to whatever Miss Leonore had in mind – and justifying his decision on the grounds of "love".

From the quizzical look in Doyle's eye, he knew what Hogan was thinking. "Perhaps I should explain a little further, Colonel."

"You'd better," said Hogan. Even as he spoke, the penny dropped, and he relaxed, just a little. Of course it wasn't Doyle. "Who's her young man?"

"Well, it's interesting." Doyle's fingers ran across the keyboard to produce a soft arpeggio. "They say the most effective lies always have a basis of truth, although I'm not entirely convinced. But the fact is, she really did meet him whilst studying music in London. He was taking composition lessons, and showed a great deal of promise. At least, so Leonore says. She may not be unbiased."

"Has he got a name?"

"She calls him Florestan, but I'm quite sure it's just a nickname. Leonore and Florestan – it would be too much of a coincidence. Fidelio, you know."

Hogan didn't know, but he let it pass. "Go on. What happened?"

"She didn't have time to tell me the whole story, although I felt she would have liked to. In short, they were close friends, and after they had both returned home, they kept in touch. And, as one might expect between two young people with a common interest..."

The music modulated into a minor key.

"Last year, he became involved with some kind of resistance group in Berlin. It seems they weren't as discreet as they should have been."

His hands became still, leaving an unresolved harmony to fade into silence.

"Was it Frau Solf's circle?" Hogan folded his arms, considering the implications. "They were active then, and we know what happened to them."

"She didn't say who they were, only that she hasn't heard from him since January."

That would fit in, Hogan thought. Most of the Solf group had been arrested around then. "Does she want our help in finding him? Because if he was taken in by the Gestapo, you may have made a promise we can't keep."

"No, sir. She has no hope of seeing him again. But one might argue that, in a way, she hopes to save him." Doyle closed the lid of the piano, and turned to face Hogan. "There was a manuscript, a set of songs he had been working on for the better part of a year. Unfortunately it seems all too likely that, if he was arrested, any unpublished works found in his home would have been seized. The finished work is probably lost, but Leonore has in her possession an early rough draft of the orchestration. She's asked me to take charge of it and keep it safe until after the war, so at least something of him will survive."

"Is that all?" Hogan's eyebrows drew in. It couldn't be that simple. "Why doesn't she just hide it away somewhere? Why drag you into it?"

"The problem is Beckmesser." Doyle met Hogan's eyes.

"Her father?"

"Stepfather. But in the absence of other male relatives, he seems to have assumed the role of pater familias. He knows about Leonore's relationship with Florestan, and how it might be viewed by the authorities if they found out. To make things even worse, the songs were inspired by a series of love letters written by Leonore's great-grandmother. The connection is very close."

"Love letters. That's just perfect."

"Indeed. Innocent though it seems, in Beckmesser's eyes the manuscript is potential evidence. He's determined to bury it, to make sure no suspicion can fall on his family. Or on himself."

Both men turned as the door opened; but it was just Carter and LeBeau. Carter was still clutching the loose sheets of music which Doyle had sent flying at the end of the recent performance.

"Tout va bien, mon Colonel?" asked LeBeau.

"I'll get back to you on that," replied Hogan. "What's going on outside?"

"The visitors have left, and Klink's gone into his office. I managed to peek in through the window and he's on the phone. He looks very pleased with himself."

Hogan grunted. "Probably phoning his buddies in the quartet to tell them they've got a booking. Watch the door."

Somewhat diffidently, Carter offered his handful of crumpled paper to Doyle. "They're kind of scrunched up. Sorry."

"I'm just glad to have them back," murmured Doyle, as he smoothed out the pages with tender care. "I couldn't possibly manage to copy them out again before Sunday."

"Oh, you think the camp concert's going ahead, do you?" Hogan's voice took on an edge.

"I don't see any reason why it should not."

"Really? Okay, suppose you tell me how you think this party tomorrow night is gonna go?" Hogan folded his arms. "Because here's how I see it. Some time during the evening, Leonore's gonna try to hand over this music score to you. But Beckmesser will be watching you both like a hawk, and if he catches you out..."

"He won't want to make a fuss, sir," Doyle pointed out. "The last thing he wants is to draw attention to Leonore, or to the manuscript."

"And the second last thing he'll want is for anyone who knows the story to get a chance to spread it around. And by anyone, I mean you. If he's got enough pull, you might suddenly find yourself accused of something which could get you into a whole mess of trouble," said Hogan grimly. "It wouldn't take much effort on Beckmesser's part to convince Klink to send you to the cooler. Or get you transferred to another camp. Or if he's really determined, and has the right connections, you might find yourself on the wrong end of a Gestapo inquiry. So no, the camp concert's not likely to happen, or at least, you may not be in it."

"I thought there might be consequences, sir. I didn't think of things going so far, but I can't say it would have made any difference if I had." Doyle paused, as if wondering if he should say anything more. Apparently he decided he should: "You can order me to stand down, if you wish. But I've promised, Colonel, and I have no intention of going back on my word."

There was a gasp of consternation from LeBeau, and Carter's jaw dropped. As for Hogan, he found himself on the brink of issuing a stinging reprimand. If it wasn't outright insubordination, it wasn't far from it; and what was particularly infuriating was that Hogan had a strong suspicion that, in the same situation, he would have done just the same.

With this in mind, he took a minute or so to consider before he replied. Carter and LeBeau were scarcely breathing, and even the imperturbable Doyle showed signs of tension. "All right," he said at last. "Against my better judgement..." He held up his hand, to quell the relief he saw forming on all three faces. "But we're gonna have to come up with a plan. Otherwise, that 1812 Overture's not gonna happen." He glanced at the sheets in Doyle's hand, and the corners of his mouth turned up. "And that'd be a real shame, wouldn't it?"


Notes: The Solf Circle was a loose association of various German intellectuals, centred around Frau Hanna Solf and her daughter. They were in the habit of getting together at ostensibly social gatherings, to discuss their anti-Nazi beliefs and activities. Inevitably, they were betrayed, and in January 1944 the most prominent members were arrested, and mostly executed. The downfall of the Solf Circle is generally held to have contributed to the dissolution of the Abwehr, a few months later.

"Fidelio" was Beethoven's only opera. It concerns the efforts of the heroine Leonore to save her husband Florestan from death in a political prison. Beckmesser and von Stolzing, incidentally, are the names of the antagonist and protagonist in Wagner's "Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg".